


I've Seen Fire, I've Seen Rain

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, bonding via mutual loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sent by Scott to go find Derek Hale, resident werewolf Alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Seen Fire, I've Seen Rain

**Author's Note:**

> my soulmate wanted a fic where two characters got caught in a rainstorm.
> 
> title taken from Fire and Rain by Birdy

Stiles isn't sure why he agreed to do it, other than the fact he's the biggest sucker in the whole freaking world, but he's in the woods on a horribly cold evening looking for a  _freaking_  werewolf.

Scott had said he was supposed to meet up with Derek after school to do some training exercises, just like every Thursday, but the guy hadn't shown up. Later he swung by the Hale house but he hadn't been there, which was, Scott said, kinda worrying.

"He's a broody werewolf," Stiles said, completely not kinda-worried at all. "He disappears into the shadows of the forest to frown in disapproval at cute woodland creatures. It's nothing to be freaked out about."

"No, dude, this is different. I'm picking up some weird vibes from him. You know I wouldn't be coming to  _you_  about Derek if I weren't totally serious." Which was a fair enough point, but Stiles stood his ground until Scott had used those stupid brown eyes that have been swaying Stiles against his better judgment since they've known each other and said, "Whatever he's doing right now, seeing  _me_  will not make it any better, so I really need you to check on him for me."

Stiles can at least commend Scott on realizing the fact that his presence oftentimes has a detrimental effect.

"But how will it being me be any better?" Stiles asked, even as his resolve crumbled beneath him. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're not exactly pals."

Scott had actually given him a sideways look at that, something borderline-incredulous that Stiles hadn't known he was able to achieve, before saying, "He respects the fact that you don't take anyone's shit. And if anyone'll be able to get through to him, it's you." Then Scott put his hand on Stiles' shoulder and said  _Please._

Like he said: biggest sucker in the whole freaking world. Damn his good heart.

"Derek!" Stiles now calls into the thickening gloom. He doesn't know how long he's been at it, at least half an hour, but there's still no sighting of the werewolf. Stiles pulls his hoodie up against the sudden wind and swallows a frustrated sigh. He could be in his cozy bed right now, reading about video game mechanics or silk spiders or fluorescent lights or anything else not out-in-the-middle-of-the-woods-searching-for-a-wolf-related.

"Derek, I swear to god if I die out here looking for you, I am going to haunt your stupid ass," Stiles threatens. He doesn't get particularly scared about being in the forest alone at night anymore thanks to the alarming frequency at which that's been happening lately, but who knows what kind of crazy shit runs around. He's got a flashlight and a can of mace to defend himself, which is not exceptionally awesome.

He's seriously contemplating abandoning the mission and returning to Scott with tears in his eyes about how he found Derek's chilled corpse in the bushes when he hears a rustling and stops walking. Stiles turns his flashlight off and sidles up next to a tree, hand on his mace, and says softly, "Derek?"

The thing that answers is not a growl but a hiss, and emerges is a cougar. Stiles certainly doesn't shriek because he's the son of the sheriff and the sons of police don't shriek.  _Clearly._

Stiles tries to remember what one does when facing a giant mountain cat. For bears you play dead, but big cats are smarter. And Stiles doesn't have the limb coordination to scale a tree. He whips out his can of mace and hopes it will hinder the cat rather than just make him more hungry for human.

Suddenly the cougar screams as it's knocked into a tree a few yards away and Stiles, once again, does not shriek in fright. He does drop the can though, and when he stands from picking it up off the ground he's staring into some blood-angry eyes.

" _Stiles_ ," the creature rumbles. Stiles falls down. The eyes leave him to go deliver a thunderous roar at the mountain lion, which skitters away as quickly as possible.

Stiles mumbles incoherently for a second, allowing himself to be righted and leant against the tree. The mace and flashlight are handed to him.

"What the  _hell_  are you doing out here,  _moron_ ," Derek grounds out as he phases back into a human, the red leaving his eyes.

Stiles shakes his head, both to clear it and in disbelief that this is his life. Going into the woods to find a werewolf, getting attack by a mountain lion, being saved by said lost wolf, then being ridiculed?

"I was looking for you,  _dumbass_ ," Stiles retorts sourly.

"I didn't need looking for."

"Well, according to Scott, ya did." Stiles feels a drop of something on his head, then his nose, and then it's pouring rain on him and the Alpha. "And now it's raining. Great _. Awesome_." Stiles sighs, rubs a hand over his face. "Okay, come on."

Derek's eyebrows knit a little at that. "I don't know what the issue is here, and I don't really care, because I'm not g--"

"God!" Stiles shouts, rounding on the werewolf. " _Yes_ , Derek. You are coming with me. This is not an option. I just spent a freakin'  _hour_ out here looking around for you, okay, I almost got  _eaten_  by a mountain lion. I am out here stuck in this goddamn rain in the middle of the night, because my best friend asked me to, because he was _worried_ about you not showing up for your little date after school. That itself should convince you since when have you ever known Scott to a shit about where you are or what you're doing!"

"Stiles--"

"No, shut up! Just stop talking and listen to me for like three seconds, alright? I'm not out here because I want to be. In fact, I, I asked Scott to just leave it alone! I knew you'd be fine, there was no reason to get all up in arms, but here I am. Admittedly, I am curious as to why you didn't show at school--"

"I just--"

"--but frankly it doesn't matter, because I've done my job, I've found the fucking werewolf, at night, in the woods, during a rainstorm, and so now we are going to your stupid house, which, by the way, you really need to fix since I'm pretty sure living like that violates at least forty house codes or something, and we're gonna call Scott, and you're going to calm him the hell down." Stiles lets out a deep, deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. He's soaked through and through now and shivering pretty badly.

Derek's hair is flat and sad, sticking to his forehead. Without it perfectly coifed like usual, he looks incredibly younger. A little softer around the edges. Suddenly Stiles can't help but try to imagine what Derek was like before all this, before the fire took his family and his normalcy.

When Derek doesn't say anything, only the harsh patter of raindrops against the ground and the distant roll of thunder filling the air, Stiles deflates. "Sorry for yelling," he mumbles, shoving his hands into his damp jean pockets.

Then Derek gives one of his slight smiles and says, "Don't be," and starts walking, pausing for just a second to see if Stiles is following. He does, and they walk with silence between them and rain falling coldly on their shoulders.

After a little while, surprisingly enough, Derek is the one to say something. "Why did Scott send you out here? Why not come himself?"

"Because he knows how much he annoys you. He figured if you were having a breakdown or something you would probably tear out his liver purely out of irritation."

Derek quirks his head to the side, not disputing that fact.

"Also because apparently you respect me," Stiles adds, and Derek snorts.

"Oh yeah? For what?"

"For not taking shit from you guys," he says, landing a soft punch on Derek's arm then immediately regretting it because that was a very  _friendly_  gesture and they are not friends.

Derek pushes his fingers through his wet hair and says, "I guess that's true since you just chewed me out for absolutely no reason."

"Excuse me, I had reason! I had a lot of reason!"

"Yeah, okay, reign it in, Cujo."

"That's incredibly rich coming from a  _werewolf_."

"I should have just left you to that cougar."

"I should have just left you to frown at cute furry animals!"

Derek makes a face at him but Stiles doesn't care to elaborate, so they lapse into silence again. Stiles doesn't even know where they are anymore; it's completely dark now, and there's a mist that's gathered from the rain that makes seeing even harder. He's totally relying on Derek to lead him back to the Hale house. Stiles contemplates how he ended up trusting a pissy supernatural creature of the night with that kind of power over his life.

"Why were you out here?" Stiles asks quietly, so quietly that if Derek hadn't had the intensified hearing of a wolf, the words would been swallowed up and carried away by the rain, unheard. But he knows Derek heard him, and so he waits for an answer, because Derek Hale doesn't just run around in the woods for no good reason. Especially not when he's made an obligation to someone else like he did to Scott, because Derek may be a lot of things, but fickle is not one of them. Stiles doesn't know why he assumes Derek would tell  _him_  of all people. It's just one of those nights and Stiles is too tired for pretenses.

"I," Derek starts, then pauses for at least a millennium because he has a thing for dramatics before saying, "Today is the anniversary." He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't have to.

And Stiles doesn't know why he feels like he should have realized that, been aware of it, maybe just because he'd read the file, known the date and the cause and the deaths. He knows he isn't responsible for Derek in any way, and they certainly don't have the bond of a friendship or of anything at all that might constitute an offering of comfort from Stiles. He blames his stupid good heart again. It gets him into a lot of trouble.

But if there's one thing Stiles has learned from telling people about his own mother, it's that  _you shouldn't tell them._ No one ever knows what to say, so you're always presented with some garbled apology that doesn't mean shit. Words don't mean a whole lot and don't do anything when it comes to this sort of thing.

 So Stiles says nothing, hypocritical of his nature. He stops walking. Derek keeps going for a couple steps, notices Stiles isn't close anymore, and turns back. Stiles closes the distance between them, maybe literally and metaphorically, reaches out and puts a hand on Derek's forearm, and looks at him. And that's it. The common experience of loss communicates for them.

Then Stiles starts walking again, not bothering to see if Derek follows.

He gets stricken by a violent chill and sneezes. After a second there's a heavy weight around his shoulders; Derek's leather jacket. He glances over only to be met by a pair of eyebrows raised in what seems like a challenge, so Stiles slips his arms through the sleeves and looks away.

"Your hair looks stupid like that," Stiles grumbles by way of thanks, not smiling at all at the small laugh he hears that's nearly, nearly caught up by raindrops.


End file.
